


His Immortal

by TheInnocentMage



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Captured, Hurt!Merlin, M/M, Magic Suppression, Merdred, Mordred Cares Too Much for Emrys, Protective!Mordred, Sick!Merlin, bandits, knights of camelot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-08 00:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15230913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInnocentMage/pseuds/TheInnocentMage
Summary: The Knights of Camelot and Merlin are caught by Bandits working under Morgana. They have been warned of Mordred’s strength in magic, that he is a young Warlock, so they decide to use magic-binding cuffs on their captives. Except, suppression magic is a dangerous art and to bind Magic incarnate itself would be like sealing a soul outside its body. With no escape in sight, Emrys may be unknowingly counting his last breathes and Mordred is terrified.





	His Immortal

Title: His Immortal

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Rating: 13+ may change

Disclaimer: BBC Merlin does not belong to me, just this story/fanfiction.

Warnings: Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Swearing, Blood/Gore

Main Pairing: Merlin/Mordred, Merdred

Full Summary: The Knights of Camelot and Merlin are caught by Bandits working under Morgana. They have been warned of Mordred’s strength in magic, that he is a young Warlock, so they decide to use magic-binding cuffs on their captives. Except, suppression magic is a dangerous art and to bind Magic incarnate itself would be like sealing a soul outside its body. With no escape in sight, Emrys may be unknowingly counting his last breathes. Sick!Merlin. Protective!Mordred.

**. . .**

**His Immortal**

_Chapter 1 - Fever_

**I**

Mordred stared viciously at the bandits, his eyes narrowing irritably when one pressed a sword hilt closer to his neck. The Knights of Camelot knelt an arms-width apart, stripped of their weapons and wrists bound tightly behind their backs. It was the greatest disgrace, bowing to the likes of thieves and murders.

Turning his head slightly to the side, Mordred noticed the same dangerous expressions lacing the other Knight's faces.

A door slammed open causing the young Druid to flinch. Heavy boots sounded on stone and soon a black cloak came into view. Arthur looked up with a defiance lighting his eyes, and a small smile crawled onto Mordred's lips. These men didn't have much longer left to live. The King of Camelot was pissed. At least, that was what the youngest Knight had believed until he saw the long-cuff, metal bracelet in the bandit's hand.

His magic twisted defensively, instantly recognising the cursed object, while his eyes scanned over the ancient runes painstaking curved into its silver surface. The cloaked man with greying hair stopped briefly in front of Gwaine, then resumed his pacing.

"It's my guess that most of you don't know what this is." He gloated, drawing attention to the bracelet as he held it up in the air. "And if you don't, then it won't bother you. . . But if you do. . . well. . ." The man stopped again, this time in front of Mordred. " _It won't be too pleasant._ I can't be taking chances you see, so I've got one for each of you gentlemen." He smiled and patted the side of the Druid's face as if he were some unruly child. The Knight practically growled as the rough glove scratched his cheek.

From behind, the other bandits approached. A pause followed before each of their captives were forcefully made to wear one of the bracelets. With a few resounding clicks the metal bands were sealed flush against their skin.

Mordred couldn't stop himself from inhaling sharply.

There was no greater pain than being cut off from one's magic. Like having a noose around your neck just loose enough to breathe, but _just_ barely. Immediately, the foreign object leeched off his magic and dulled his senses. The Knights seemed none the wiser. Gwaine frowned for a moment, but other than that, there was no response between them.

Mordred's eyes flickered to Emrys, and for the first time, worry reflected on the Druid's face. The young Warlock's head was bowed, as if it were too heavy to hold up, and although his eyes were open, they held a glassy distance that seemed a little past unreachable. Mordred flexed his fists. He’d never entered the notion before, of what the consequences would be if magic incarnate were to be cut off from magic itself.

_Was that even possible? Could these bandits actually have acquired something powerful enough to carry out such a fleet?_

Judging how each of Emrys' breaths were becoming shorter and shaker than the last, apparently so. Mordred shook himself, calming his thoughts and centring his focus on his surroundings.

The abandoned fort was truly a maze of stone walls and secret passages. Out in the open, in a fair fight, the bandits never would have been able to successfully ambush them, but here, on their own turf, the advantage was always going to be in their favour. Mordred sighed. _Wasn’t Arthur supposed to be a wiser King than this? Were the scrolls these thieves stole from Camelot’s vaults worth the risk?_ Watching their leader stride up and down, boots echoing on stone. Gloating, jeering, taunting them. The young Knight cannot help but feel unsavoury towards his King’s brash choice. Yet, there is little Mordred can do now _._

And there’s a certain amount of unfairness to it all, the Druid decided. He couldn’t use his magic to defend himself in front of Percival after they paired off to scout the east side of the fort, and presently he couldn’t even feel his magic. As if, all remnants of its existence had been wiped off the face of the earth. It’s a devoid, empty sensation. Cold and unkind like an endless winter. Mordred’s eyes flickered back to Emrys once again at the realisation.

The Warlock had pitched forward, clearly no longer able to fully support his own weight. His breathing still fared little better and a faint redness had crept onto his cheeks, much like that of a fever. Yet, only himself and one other had noticed the servant's plight.

The bandit’s leader, _Merek_ as he had introduced himself, held a disquieting glint in his eyes every time they passed over Merlin’s form.

Mordred paled and quickly looked to the floor. Everything clicked into place. The only type of magic user, par a Warlock, who could potentially summon enough power to create such a cursed bracelet is a High Priestess. And there is but one of them left walking in this plane.

_Morgana._

Since she learnt of Emrys existence, she has searched for him relentlessly. Always two steps behind, always just out of reach of his shadow. But she knows that Emrys is rumoured to be close to Arthur, there but never seen.

Had she used these bandits to draw them out, to catch them in hopes that Emrys would come to the King’s rescue? So then she could meet him face to face and finally kill him. Were the bracelets made to stop Mordred from interfering without purposely giving away that fact he has magic, did Morgana still care that much? Or were they used on the off chance that Emrys was already among them?

Mordred curled his hands to fists and hums a string of curses in his head. It didn’t really matter. Merek had his answer anyway and soon Morgana would as well.

**Ф**

_Merlin bit back the whimper on his trembling lips as the silver bracelet snapped tight on his skin._

_The world faded, or seemed to, as the young Warlock felt his head pitch forward. A part of himself had been brutally gouged, torn out of his body, but there was no wound, no blood, no pain. He could still see the bandits, the stones floors, the red capes of Camelot's Knights, and the scarf around his neck. He could still smell the pine, the earthy forest outside the abandoned fort; hear the footsteps of his captors and bated breaths of his friends. But it was different somehow._

_Distant and surreal in a way that made Merlin unsure if was awake or asleep, stuck somewhere between being present or a ghost that could pass through walls of this fort. A dazed smile met Merlin’s lips. It was disconcerting, strange, peculiar. Heat rose in his veins, burning away at his thoughts as his touch on reality began to weaken, followed swiftly by the strength of his body._

**Ф**

“Take these Knights to the dungeon.” Merek laughed as he stopped in front of Emrys, purposely not looking at the servant, but Mordred clearly understood it was a signal to his men. “We’ve found what we were looking for.”

Arthur’s brow stitched together with a frown. “What do you mean?” He snarled. “We haven’t given you anything.”

Merek smiled falsely-sweet, intimidatingly moving closer to the King. “Your majesty,” he announced almost joyously, “you’ve given me everything.”

The rest of the bandits closed in, pulling the Knights to their feet. Mordred remained indifferent as he was led to the iron-bared cells below. Surprised at first that they were doubled up, but still refused to falter when he was shoved too the stone floor of the prison. The Druid expected no less when Emrys barely acknowledged his surrounding, stumbling as he was manhandled inside as well.

Within moments Mordred had stood back up to fight back, but the iron bars slammed shut in his face. The bandit sneered at him, and the Knight’s only thoughts were how easy it would be to finish that man off with magic. If only he could reach the part of his soul trapped inside.

Opposite, he watched as Gwaine and Leon were battled into their cell. Both Knights looked furious as the iron bar _CLICKED_ shut before they managed to stage an escape. Mordred nodded curtly at Leon before turning to face Emrys. _He was in no mood to deal with the Warlock's distrusting words and judging eyes, but the sight that met him was very different._ Emrys was swaying on his feet, clearly struggling with his sense of balance. A far-off, dazed expression laced his young features and suddenly Mordred was very afraid.

"Em-Merlin?"

He waited. No response. The young Knight's stomach twisted as he stepped closer. He was brought to his knees as the Warlock’s consciousness fled and he fell forwards onto the Druid.

"Merlin?" He tried again, pulling off a glove and ghosting his fingers over the Warlock in his arms. The sound had gotten both Gwaine's and Leon's attention. Moving Emrys into his lap, Mordred looked up, face devoid of emotion.

_"He's burning up.”_

**. . .**

**Author's Note:**

> Please review and let me know what you think! :) x


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